So the Darkness I Became
by A.Damaged.Rose
Summary: A silence falls between them then, and he feels apologetic for even asking. Everyone knows she lives and breathes denial. CxDxE
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries. There are some lines that are taken directly from the show, and those lines belong entirely to the writers. I take no credit there.**

_**And in the dark, I could hear your heart beat. I tried to find the sound. But then…it stopped, and I was in the darkness. So the darkness I became…~ **_

_**-**_**Cosmic Love, Florence and The Machine**

_**So the Darkness I Became**_

**Prologue**

They are a symphony of passion. His fingers ghost over her collar bone and then brush the underside of her knee in a way that makes her moan. She reaches up to rest her hand on his shoulder for support. She cannot remember how she arrived in this place, and all that she is aware of now is the pounding of her heart as he pushes inside her. His jaw is pressed against her cheek, and she thinks for a moment that she actually misses the coarseness that usually scratches her skin.

"Mmm," she sighs when he collapses on top of her. It is not unusual for him to ignore her after he's finished, so she is surprised when he props himself up on an elbow and stares at her.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he says softly. His thumb lightly brushes her lower lip.

She feels the blood rush to her face and the moment shatter.

He murmurs an apology as his teeth meet her jugular.

* * *

His skin is not white, like she had expected a vampire's skin to be. Instead, he can pass for a normal, sinfully attractive man with freckles and imperfections. She knows, deep down, that he is not a normal, sinfully attractive man. He can and does and will hurt her, in more ways than one.

She ponders this, pushing against the counter of his kitchen to spin the swirly chair back and forth. He is standing in the middle of the room without a shirt and without pants. She admires the rippling of his muscles when he flips the pancakes.

"Stop the squeaking. Seriously."

She twirls one more time, trying not to let the playful smile grace her face as she listens for that enjoyable squeak.

He tenses but plates the pancakes anyway, reaching over her shoulder to drizzle syrup on them without even asking if she wants any.

"Controlling bastard," she bites out between swallows.

"Squeaky bitch."

He smirks though, and she wonders what is running through his mind when he licks his lips and tilts his head.

* * *

"I know how you feel about him." There is an accusing glint in his eyes, but an accepting one as well.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I shouldn't even be surprised." He looks at her, considering. "Can I ask you something, though?"

She nods, all curls and betrayal and something else, something he can't put his finger on.

"Do you really think he can make you happy?"

A silence falls between them then, and he feels apologetic for even asking. Everyone knows she lives and breathes denial.

* * *

He finds it is the little things that remind him: the lift of her eyebrow when she admonishes him for his naughty behavior; the slight curl to her hair before she brushes it. And most of all, he cannot ignore the painfully similar feeling that rises in his chest when she whispers that she can simply not go on with him any longer.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Caroline grinned at Elena and crossed her legs underneath her. She took a sip of her martini while her best friend squirmed.

"Oh, come on, Elena. Just tell us! I bet he's good." She sighed dramatically, leaning back against Bonnie's headboard. "He's got big hands."

"_Caroline_!"

She ducked, barely missing the pillow that Elena pelted in her direction. "What? You know I'm right, Bonnie. And from the way you're blushing, Elena, I'm pretty sure you know exactly what I'm talking about."

"He's….wonderful," Elena admitted. She bit her lip but couldn't hold back the blush that rose to her cheeks.

"And….?"

"And he's got nice hands – happy?"

Caroline, finally satisfied, glanced at Bonnie while taking another sip from her glass. "Told ya so."

"What about you, Forbes?" Bonnie shot back. "Still screwing Lockwood?"

"It was one time!"

"And we're never gonna let you forget it."

Elena laughed. "She's right. I may be having hot sex with my hot boyfriend, but at least I didn't lose my virginity to a pompous ass."

"Right. You lost it to Matt – much better."

There was a pause, and Caroline regretted what she said. Matt was off-limits. He, Caroline, Bonnie and Elena had been best friends since kindergarten, but Elena and Bonnie had always had something Caroline didn't. They were all Sister, Sister and she was all stupid, blonde air-head third wheel. Matt, like everyone else, preferred Elena and Caroline watched as she broke his heart again and again, more often then not without ever even realizing it.

Middle school hadn't changed their dynamic all that much. Caroline twirled around them with her looks and sharp features and blossoming body and sometimes, sometimes, Elena and Bonnie joined in. Most of the time, though, Caroline dated and flirted and gossiped, and most of all tried to get Matt to notice her. She batted her eyelashes at him when they spoke and touched his arm more often than was appropriate. And he still pined for her on-again off-again BFF.

High school arrived and with it came (for Caroline, anyway) a rockin' body and guys and a rush of hormones like you wouldn't believe. She branched out, made her own friends, and surrounded herself with girls she knew were beneath her. She had a clique and her social position was secure. She went out on dates and drank her first beer and smoked her first cigarette. Elena, though, fun and flirty but mysterious and sexy in a way Caroline simply couldn't be, still ruled the social scene. She could hold down more liquor, smoke more expensive tobacco and leave all the boys wanting. Along with sidekick/best friend Bonnie, Elena had been able to maintain her popularity without scheming, without rivalry. Caroline tried to be queen; Elena just was.

And as for Matt, poor pining love-sick Matt? He got her. He asked Elena out for the hundredth time and she said yes. Matt was her arm-candy for a whole year, and together they were the perfect couple. He kissed her with tongue in front of everyone, carried her books, and danced with her at their junior prom. She laughed when he twirled her and blushed when they were caught without shirts in the janitor's closet.

On June 3rd of their junior year, Elena's parents' car went over the bridge and into the water.

With them in it.

Elena had gotten out of the car somehow, and was found on the bank of the river with a dislocated shoulder and a shattered cheekbone. She was unconscious for two weeks, and it wasn't all because of physical pain. The doctors in the hospital had worked with her father. They were doing her a kindness, prolonging the inevitable.

Caroline had stopped by twice: once when Elena was still out and the other when she was still groggy. Try as she might, Caroline just couldn't face this broken girl who was clearly not the Elena she had known for well over a decade. Matt was beside himself; he barely slept, refused to leave Elena's side, and stroked her hair so much that Caroline had to wonder if she would be bald when she woke.

A month after the accident, Elena broke up with Matt. She told him she needed time, and he, being the gentleman that he was and still is, accepted this gracefully and told her he would wait as long as she needed.

Elena gave up the booze and the smokes; traded them in for sensible jeans and converse sneakers. She watched after her newly-stoned brother and shut herself off from everyone but Bonnie for the rest of the summer.

Caroline put gold highlights in her hair and plucked her eyebrows and got her bikini line waxed.

It hurt like a bitch, but everything that summer had.

"Caroline, are you okay?"

She blinked, realizing that she was still on Bonnie's bed with alcohol in her hand. "Sorry guys. Must have zoned for a minute."

"You were really out of it, Care."

Matt used to call her that. It was their thing. Most people had assumed it came from her name, and it sort of had. But mostly it had derived from the fact that she loved Care-Bears. Like, really freaking loved them. She had a basket stuffed full of them: blue ones with rainbows on their stomachs and yellow ones with daffodils and even a blanket still folded on her bed which involved Care-Bears dancing in a circle in their magical Care-Bear-y world. Thinking about it now made her heart hurt in a way she couldn't quite explain.

She shook those thoughts away with a large gulp from her glass. "I know. Sorry. Listen, I better go – my mother'll freak if I spend another night away from home."

She embraced Elena and rolled her eyes at Bonnie before blowing them air kisses and dashing out of the room to get to her car. She breathed a sigh of relief when she was safely seated behind the wheel of her adorable baby blue Prius.

And then she started to cry.

* * *

"Be home by eleven, honey."

Caroline rolled her eyes and ignored her mother.

All her life she had practically raised herself, and then when she got boobs and a knowing smirk, her mom decided to care. Caroline spent most of her time finding ways to get under her mother's skin, knowing for a fact that having a daughter who was practically a drunken whore (in her mother's eyes, at least) was the ultimate embarrassment.

She checked her reflection in the mirror one more time, taking no more than twenty seconds to reapply her lip gloss and flip her newly-straightened hair. When she was satisfied, she yanked her kitchen door open and hopped in Damon's car.

"Easy there, princess." Damon snatched her hand away from his precious radio. He caught her gaze and stared at her. "Hands off the merchandise."

She nodded happily. For whatever reason, she didn't feel the need to change stations any longer.

"Where are we going?" She watched the muscle in his jaw jump as she chattered away. It was growing increasingly apparent that she was more talented at antagonizing those around her than at being a good student, daughter, or friend.

"Shut up," he tossed casually over his shoulder.

Once again she acquiesced, quieting immediately. As she kept her mouth shut, she admired the cool leather interior of Damon's car, and just how hot he looked in it.

Damon Salvatore, she sighed in her head. When he and his brother Stefan had strolled into town just weeks before, she had had her eyes set on the younger of the two. As usual, though, Elena snatched the brooding Salvatore right out of Caroline's grasp. Not that she minded now, 'cause Damon was ten times hotter with his midnight hair and electric blue eyes. He also possessed this wonderful thing called passion, something, Caroline decided, Stefan was definitely lacking.

A smirk appeared on Damon's handsome face, lifting one perfectly sculpted lip to one side.

He pulled up in front of the boardinghouse where he lived and kissed her hard. She nipped at the side of his mouth, earning a vicious growl in return. He lifted her into his arms and raced through the front door and up the stairs.

And as he rested her on his bed and kissed his way up her rib cage, she wondered if she would always, in one way or another, end up here: surrendering her control to a man because she wanted to feel like she was worth something.

She barely noticed the deliberate motion as Damon turned her neck to the side, completely entranced by the feelings he stirred within her body.

And then he sank his teeth deep into her artery, and she let out an ear-piercing scream until he pressed his hand to her mouth and silenced her.

Because she was, to him, simply a rag doll. Which was almost laughable, as most of time she felt that way: weak, desperate, and useless.

* * *

"Will these bites make me a vampire?"

She was finding it difficult to remember how Damon had arrived in her bedroom, but she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the mirror before her. Her fingers caressed the seven marks he had left on her skin.

Damon lay on her bed, one hand behind his head as the other flipped the pages to _New Moon. _He paused, almost made curious by her inquiry.

"It's a little more complicated than that." He stood behind her, brushing her hair behind her neck to reveal yet another healing wound.

"You'd have to drink my blood, then die, and then drink someone else's blood. It's a whole ordeal."

He placed a kiss on her shoulder and then gazed down at her form with furrowed brows.

"No yellow. Looks like jaundice. Go for the blue."

Caroline pouted. "But I don't like the blue, I like the yellow."

His eyes darkened. "Well I like the blue, and if I'm going to be your date – "

"You are _not _going to be my date." She scoffed at the mere idea, imagining her mother, Elena, Stefan, and _Damon_, of all people, in the same room.

He wrapped his hands around her wrists, forming steel manacles. "I went through a lot of trouble to make sure this dance wasn't canceled."

He turned her head to face him. "Please take me."

Caroline blinked, struck by a sudden impulse. "You should come to the founder's gala with me."

Damon's easy smile returned. "Not if you're wearing that dress."

She giggled and stripped out of the yellow dress, leaving it on the floor, forgotten, and leaping into his arms.

He flipped them over and licked the underside of her jaw, placing butterfly kisses on the curve of her neck.

"Mmmm, you can be very sweet when you want to be."

"Of course I can be sweet." He pressed his nose against her jugular and inhaled.

In that moment, a wave of concern washed over her. "Are you going to kill me?"

He drew away from her neck and stared down at her, almost considering.

"Mmhm. But not yet."

"Why?"

"Because I need you to do something for me." His fingers traced a gentle path down the veins in her wrist.

She closed her eyes and opened them, as if to make sure he was real.

"Anything."

Damon lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered his plan.

Then she watched as his face was overtaken with blood vessels that cracked and rose to the surface of his skin. His eyes, once electric in their intensity, were consumed by thirst, and his teeth grew sharp with need.

She closed her eyes when he bit her, finally allowing her tears to tumble over her cheeks.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured, as if he could hear the silent screams that rang in her mind over and over. He kissed her tears away with a mouth still stained with her blood.

"I protect what's mine."

It was the last thing she heard before she surrendered herself to unconsciousness.

* * *

**Author's Note: Please Review! It's quite different from anything I've tried before.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hey all, sorry for the wait. Hope this is good, 'cause I'm really not sure at this point. A few more P.O.V.'s in this chapter - still third person of course. -Rose**

**Chapter 2**

It took her some time to stumble out of bed and slip into comfortable pajama pants and a sweatshirt. She winced after each jarring step, and reached up to feel the ravaged flesh of her carotid artery. Her fingertips came away stained with blood, and a startled gasp escaped her. She walked, trembling, into her white-tiled bathroom and tilted her head so that she could see her wound in the mirror.

A cry tore from her throat and she clapped a hand over her mouth; there was no way she was going to try and explain her injuries to her mother. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the bite wasn't nearly as serious as she would have thought from the amount of pain she was in whenever she breathed. As quietly as she could, Caroline grabbed a handful of tissues from the box by the sink and wet them, bringing them up toward her neck and dabbing with as much care as possible. When the dried blood had been completely washed off, she stared into the mirror and frowned.

Just minutes before the bite had been raw and angry red, blood seeping down across the pale column of her neck. Now, though still frightening in its violent nature, her mark had seemingly stitched itself together, leaving behind a deep pink scar that remained tender to the touch. Her head ached and her neck felt uncomfortably warm. Caroline swallowed hard, almost swaying from the effort it took to remain standing. With a sigh, she forced herself to climb back under the covers.

Her pillow was wet from her tears; she flipped it over and closed her eyes, determined to go back to sleep. Caroline would have to go to school tomorrow and she had no intention of going in with dark circles beneath her eyes.

When she was a little girl, like, really little – maybe only three or four – and her father was still around, her mother's friends ('cause she actually had them then) would gather around Caroline and ooh and ah over her rosy cheeks and pale blonde ringlets.

_Beautiful Caroline. Lovely girl. Gonna have yourself a heartbreaker, Lizzie._

Caroline often wondered where all her mother's supposed friends had gone when Liz's perfect husband walked right out of her perfect life to fuck his legal partner, _Adam_. It was as if Liz lost everything, as if she were nothing without James and his money. The sympathy for her mother faded over the years, though, as Caroline watched Bonnie's mother rub her shoulders after a cruel comment from a boy, and as Elena's mom poured them a cup of steaming hot cocoa and watched The Notebook with Elena and Caroline for the twelfth time.

When Tyler Lockwood took her virginity, Caroline had come home drunk and hurt, because she had cared for him more than he had for her. She had walked slowly up the stairs and down the hallway to her mother's room. Her heart had been hammering as she opened the door and crawled into bed with her mother.

"Caroline?"

Liz had stirred slowly, turning to face her daughter. "What's wrong?" She glanced at the clock and groaned. "I have a long day tomorrow, sweetheart. Can we talk in the morning?"

"Yeah, sure." Caroline's voice had cracked on the last syllable. "Sorry for waking you."

Her mother had already fallen back asleep.

Clenching her eyes shut, Caroline shook those memories away as if they were stubborn spider webs, still clinging to her skin. She focused on breathing evenly – in and out, in and out – until she fell into a dreamless sleep, her fingers still clutching the thick fabric of her pale blue comforter, as though a blanket could protect her from the nightmares she would face when she woke.

* * *

Sunlight made its way through her window in ribbons, vanquishing all shadows. Caroline frowned against her pillow, throwing the covers over her head and moaning aloud. She rolled onto her stomach and lay still. She wondered idly if this is what it felt like to be dead.

After all, how much would death differ from her current state?

Caroline ignored her alarm clock, which was already increasing in volume, and buried deeper into her mattress, curling into a tiny ball. She held her breath and stared at the door from her cocoon. She really didn't want to go to school today. She'd barely slept and, frankly, she felt like shit.

The stupid clock continued its endless string of high-pitched beeps until she pounded against the snooze button with a tired fist. When all she could hear was silence, she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

"Caroline."

She ignored her mother, clenching her eyes shut and turning on her side.

"Caroline?" Her mom pressed a hand against Caroline's forehead. "Are you sick, honey?"

Caroline let out a convincing groan and nodded, shying away from Liz's probing stare.

"Do you want to stay home?"

"Please," she whispered.

She pretended to be asleep when her mother returned later to kiss her goodbye.

Things were easier that way. For the both of them.

* * *

"I was hoping I'd see you again." She'd smiled coyly, feeling the satisfying warmth that hit the pit of her stomach as she realized just how much she wanted him.

He tilted his head to the side, appraising her. "I know."

"Cocky much?" she asked, keeping her voice steady.

The young man smirked and closed the distance between them. "_Very _much."

Caroline toyed with the necklace Elena had given her just weeks before. She glanced at the hand her dark knight held out to her, his light eyes dancing, waiting.

And she reached out and took it, that chance at incredibility. She was Caroline Forbes.

He was hot.

He wanted her.

That was all she needed.

* * *

Caroline had frowned at Bonnie's warning. "It's really not a big deal," she said, reaching into her locker to pull out her English textbook.

"I disagree." Bonnie grabbed Caroline's wrist. "Elena thinks he's dangerous."

"If Elena was all that concerned then she'd be talking to me instead of gushing over Stefan Salvatore." She shook off her friend's hand. "It's a casual thing, Bonnie. I like him, he likes me. No biggie."

"I know you're sleeping with him," Bonnie said.

Caroline rolled her eyes. Bonnie would just _not _shut up over this Damon thing.

"Uh huh." Caroline fluffed her hair in the tiny mirror hanging inside her locker. "And?"

"You've been seeing each other what – three weeks?"

"Three and a half, to be exact." Caroline started walking in the general direction of her next class.

"I don't trust him. When I'm around him I get this sense…there's something wrong with him, Care, I can feel it." Bonnie's eyes were pleading.

"Witchy senses tingling?" Caroline turned to face her friend and grabbed Bonnie's shoulders. "Bonnie. I promise you, I'll be okay. I can take care of myself; I've been doing it a long time. Don't worry, 'kay?"

Bonnie sighed. "Just be careful, alright?"

"Always." Caroline grinned. "I'll let you know if he gets too naughty."

Bonnie clapped her hands over her ears. "Ew! I did not need to hear that!"

"See ya later, Sabrina!"

* * *

She stayed in bed all day. There was something inside of her that wasn't right. Shattered images of memories that didn't belong to her played over and over in her head, an endless echo of truths that wouldn't make sense, that she _couldn't _make sense of.

Caroline hugged her knees to her chest and faced the mirror. She pulled her back in a messy ponytail and exposed her throat. Her fingertips traveled the distance of her broken skin, her eyes appraising her appearance critically. Tears, for the third time that day, clung to her lashes as she held her breath.

Her beauty was all she had. She knew it was deceitful, that within her was nothing of importance, that all she was was a false advertisement for something lovely. Caroline turned from the mirror and pulled out her compact, flipping it open and smoothing away her imperfections with her strongest foundation.

She snapped the compact shut when she was finished and threw it across the room, enjoying the sound it made as it cracked into a million pieces.

"Good as new," she said to her empty room.

* * *

Elena Gilbert frowned into her rearview mirror. The pale blue car had been following her every move for the last six miles, and she was starting to worry. She knew who drove it, and the last thing she needed was for him to get out of his car and actually confront her.

She pulled out her phone and keys, gripping each tightly in her left hand while her right swerved her car to the side of the road. Like she has suspected, the blue car came to a halt behind hers, and within nanoseconds Damon Salvatore stood in front of her, arms folded and resting on her window.

"You should never pull over while someone's tailing you." He peered at her, eyes gleaming beneath the moonlight. "Everyone knows that."

Elena locked her car doors with an audible click and shot him a dirty look. "Go away, Damon."

"Oh, but what would be the fun in that?" He reached his arm into the car through the window and unlocked it.

She, in turn, started rolling up the window. "Would it still be fun if you lost an arm?"

"Not as much, I must admit," he said, shaking his head. He pulled out his arm. "Reattaching limbs is a pain in the ass."

"What do you want?" _There_, Elena thought. _Direct. To the point._

_Cold._

Damon lifted an eyebrow. "Such hostility. What I _want_, Miss Gilbert, is for you to come out of the car so that you and I can have a nice long chat."

_No, Elena_._ Don't cave_. "No," she said.

He sighed. "Alrighty, tried it Stefan's way. Here's mine."

He smashed her window with one almost delicate tap and grabbed her keys and cell before opening the door and yanking her out.

"Let go of me! Damon, let go of me!" She fought him hard, fists flailing and landing a pathetic punch to his leather jacket and firm stance.

"Calm yourself, woman. What are you trying to do – get us both killed?" He tucked a fly-away strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Speaking of, your friend Caroline is _really _getting on my nerves."

Elena jerked away from his touch. "What do you mean 'get us both killed'? What's going on?"

"Well, besides the fact that I'm going to rip your friend's lungs out through her throat?"

She glared. "You wouldn't dare."

"You know I would, Elena. But anyway, that's beside the point."

She raised an eyebrow and waited.

"Jeremy's getting to be a problem. His little friend Anna? You know her? Not so little. She's older than I am, and she's here on some crazy-as-fuck mission to free her mother and god knows how many other vampires from the tomb."

Elena didn't make a sound. She stared at him wordlessly.

"Earth to Elena…?"

"What do we do?" Her anger at him was fading at a rapid pace, and her heart began to pound.

He let out a breath. "We kill her. Preferably tonight."

"_We_?"

"Me and you. Dynamic Duo. The Unstoppable Half-Eternal Stud, Half-Miss Boring Squad. Wait – is a squad more than two?"

She ignored him. "What about Stefan?"

"Stefan Schmefan. He's too hung up brooding to be of much use. Hell, you have the personality of a mop and you're way more exciting." Damon smirked his signature smirk at her.

"Does he know about this?"

"Of course. What do you take me for – a savage?"

She muttered under her breath about his downright savagery. "Get in the car, eternal stud. I'm driving."

* * *

Damon did not like the way Elena drove. For one thing, it was way too slow for his taste. The girl did not know how to drive, and every five seconds she would look over at him and frown with a broody face that threatened Stefan's title as King Brooder.

He was about two looks away from leaping from the car.

"Elena."

She peered at him, and temporarily stopped her frowning. "What?"

"Relax," he said gently, gesturing to her hands, which were clenched so tightly around the steering wheel they were white.

They drove for a few minutes in silence, but Damon noticed that Elena's hands were no longer strangling the wheel.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure thing, doll," he drawled.

She rolled her eyes, but her heart rate sped up. "Why Caroline? Why her, when you could go to a bar and pick someone up?"

"Should I even dignify that with a response?"

She glared. It wouldn't have scared a Chihuahua, let alone a serial killer, and he just shook his head and sighed.

"She's easy, Stefan's Girlfriend. Hot, young…tasty."

"Please leave her alone." Elena pulled the car over to the side of the road, cut the engine, and stared at him. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Damon, she's my friend," she said, voice shattering like glass.

"You say that as if it would mean anything to me." He watched with a curious fascination as a tear followed a solitary path down Elena's cheek.

This was the problem, he thought, with teenage girls and feelings and getting too close to one's victims.

Emotions were bullshit. He decided that years ago. Besides, he didn't have time for faux-comfort or soothing.

Anna had to die. That night.

Without her dead, there was no way he'd get into that tomb.

With that thought, hideous doubt swam in the pit of his stomach.

A world without Katherine for another 145 years.

There wasn't a chance in hell he was going to let that happen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: It's important to keep this in mind: _Pieces of the story are missing due to Caroline's fragmented view, Elena's limited knowledge, and Damon's singleminded focus._**

**Chapter 3**

Caroline got up the next morning and showered. She brushed her teeth, straightened her hair, and royally screwed up her mascara.

And then she drove to school, stopping along the way to purchase a ridiculously over-priced mocha latte.

She smiled at all the right times. She flirted innocently with Mr. Williams and got a few extra days to complete her history paper. She laughed when Bonnie made worried eyes and rambled on about how Damon was some kind of dangerous psycho.

At 3:30 the bell rang. She collected her things and left.

* * *

Damon Salvatore was waiting for her when she got home. She had entered the house, clanging her keys noisily against the granite counters just because she could.

Her mother wasn't there. Working late.

Caroline made her way up the stairs slowly, her heels killing her feet and her makeup smudged. And then she found him, just lying on her bed like it was no big deal. He wore his signature grin and a tight black t-shirt.

She shifted under his intent gaze. His eyes pierced through her, reading her like a book. She could see it in his face; he had seen her soul with that glance. He knew what she was, under all the eyeliner and the cherry lip gloss and the 4-inch heels. A phony. A fake. _Pathetic little girl._

"I missed you." He swung his long legs over the edge of her bed and made his way toward her.

She took an involuntary step back.

"Are you afraid of me?"

His voice was teasing, but there was something sharp that lingered there. Something that made her swallow hard.

He moved faster than she could blink; within milliseconds he stood before her, those eyes locked with hers, those strong hands capturing her wrists and guiding them around his neck.

"Shhh. Don't be afraid."

He lifted her chin and stared at her. His pupils dilated, and all she could see were those endless black pathways that led onto eternity. She breathed in the scent of his skin, almost tasted the winter that clung to him – so strange…how could anyone smell of a season? But he did. Of course he did.

She smiled up at him, her worries erased. "Where have you been?"

"Out and about." His tone was light and airy. She wondered why she ever found him frightening in the first place.

Caroline pressed her lips to his throat, scraped her teeth gently over his jawline. "Next time," she said softly, "take me with you."

* * *

For the first time in their relationship, Caroline woke before he could leave her. She turned onto her side and studied him. When she had first met him, she would have bet anything he was at least twenty-five. And yet, now, his features completely still and relaxed, she looked at him and saw a little boy. She looked at him and saw a child, hardly a man. She looked at him and felt her own heart swell.

Her hand reached out – even she couldn't say why – to touch him, maybe. To stroke his hair back from his forehead. To feel the new growth of hair that dusted his upper lip. To hold the innocence she saw in him and protect it, prove that it was there at all.

Before her fingertips could rest on his skin, his eyes snapped open.

He glared for a moment and then his expression changed. He tilted his head to the side. His lip curled into a smile.

"My sweet Caroline." He reached for her, and she let him hold her to his chest. She let him cradle her like a child and place a kiss to the crown of her head.

Damon flipped them over then, his strong body hovering above her. His teeth glinted in the darkness. His mouth crashed into hers, desperate and angry. He kissed her hungrily, and she winced when she felt a sharp pain in her lower lip. Metallic droplets of her blood filled her mouth and he groaned against her. He swallowed deeply, his tongue caressing hers.

"So beautiful," he whispered. His lips were stained with her blood.

She felt it, the moment she gave in. She let her body go weightless in his arms. She allowed him to kiss her again, to lap gently at the small wound on her lip.

She wanted it. Right? Didn't she?

His eyes found hers once more.

Yes.

Her heart raced. His hands explored her body slowly, torturously. He pulled her sleep shirt over her head and brushed his fingertips over her naked skin. He sparked the embers still burning underneath, the part of her that existed only in his arms.

When he lowered his head to her chest, she tangled her fingers in his hair. She smirked, finally victorious in her quest to touch him. The strands were soft beneath her hands, unruly and black as midnight. And when his teeth sank into her breast, she pulled those delicate strands as hard as she could.

He gave her pleasure. He gave her pain.

He consumed her entirely.

* * *

When she emerged from her shower, the window was open and cool air flowed into her room, dancing about her bare arms and legs and raising goosebumps. He was gone.

A note was left for her, taped to her vanity mirror and signed in dark red ink.

I'll take you with me next time.

-D

She couldn't help it; she smiled.

* * *

The next time she saw Damon, he was agitated, pacing her room and pulling at his hair. Every few moments he would shoot her a glare and then mutter savagely under his breath.

She didn't want to admit it, but the truth was that she was afraid. He looked inhuman; his eyes, usually clear as undisturbed water, were steeled over a stormy grey and his skin was pale as moonlight. He was frightening. She wondered if this was he night he would kill her.

"Damon." She rose to her feet and approached him, all the while wary of the veins that spiderwebbed over his cheekbones. "Are you okay?"

He shrugged her cautious hand off his shoulder. "For God's sake. I'm fine!"

He took a breath, looking very much not fine.

Caroline backed away and sat down on her bed. She glanced at her bedspread and almost laughed. The pink flowers reminded her just how different she really was from the innocent little girl who'd picked them out.

"They tried to vervain me," he said finally. "Stefan and his little girlfriend tried to lock me up."

It took her a moment to process this information. "Elena? Elena knows about you? About Stefan?"

Her mind raced; if Elena knew, it would make Caroline that much less alone. She could have someone to talk to, someone to hold her when Damon hurt her, someone who understood what it meant to date or see or fuck a vampire.

As though he'd read her mind, Damon whipped around to face her, eyes dark with contempt. He stared at her, coming closer until his strong arms were on either side of her folded legs. "You are absolutely forbidden to tell Elena anything. Anything, Barbie. I mean it."

She clenched her jaw but nodded. Then she realized something else - "Wait, they tried to hurt you?"

Damon rolled his eyes. "Well, tried and failed, but tried all the same."

He turned his back to her once more; his face appeared in her full body mirror.

"My brother the hero. Saving the blonde damsel in distress from the big bad vampire."

Damon's reflection twisted with disgust. "He's pathetic. Always has been, really."

"He loves Elena."

Damon glanced back at her. "I repeat: he's pathetic."

Caroline swallowed back her jealousy. Stefan could love Elena, even though he was a vampire. Why couldn't Damon love her? What about her was so unlovable? Christ. She let him drink from her, let him shove her around. She did everything he asked. Why couldn't he love her?

Why _didn't_ he love her?

* * *

The next day Stefan cornered her after math class.

"What do you want?" She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. His face was contorted in pity. She hated him for it.

"I want to help you. I know what Damon is doing to you."

Her mouth opened. She couldn't have said at the time whether it was to tell Stefan to go to hell or to crumple to her knees and beg for his help. Either way, as soon as she had drawn in breath her lips froze around her words.

Her mind went curiously blank. She felt, rather than heard, a voice soothe her as though through a funnel.

You don't know what he's talking about, darling. You have to go.

Anger ignited within her. "If this is part of Elena's plan to interfere with me and Damon's relationship, I don't want to hear it."

Stefan stared at her. "No. Caroline..." He seemed to pause and then he frowned. "Do you remember that necklace Elena gave you?"

"What? Don't try and change the subject on me, Stefan Salvatore. You tell Elena that Damon hasn't done anything to me. Tell her to leave me alone!" She stormed off, not stopping until she was safe and hidden in a bathroom stall.

She held her face in her hands. An unknown spirit guided her had to her throat. She winced as her fingers grazed over an invisible wound.

And she wondered why her words tasted so much like lies.

* * *

"So my baby brother had a little chat with you," Damon spat. He pressed his nose to her hair and then pushed her away. "You smell like righteousness."

Caroline swallowed. "What are you going to do?"

He turned to her. His face was calm, those passionate eyes cool and collected. Then he smiled. "Nothing."

She couldn't help but to arch a blonde brow. "You. You are going to do nothing? Like, nothing at all?"

The smile grew into a smirk. "Nothing at all," he whispered, almost to himself, and then he reached for her.

His aversion to the scent of Stefan's lingering morality was soon long forgotten. She sighed beneath the familiar weight of his fingertips against her ribs. She barely felt the pierce of his canines when he finally bit her, right at the pulse point under her jaw. His arms wrapped around her chest, a boa constrictor with cool skin and deathdriven blue eyes.

She sagged against him, weightless. Felt him press a gentle kiss to her temple.

"Sweet Caroline," he murmured.

It was the last thing she would remember of their encounter. She woke, something occurring much more frequently those days, in Damon's bed, nearly a week later.

* * *

She awoke slowly. Her eyes opened, breaking through the haze of sleep, only for the tides to pull her back under, drown her in tangible nightmares, and for her to fall asleep once more.

When she finally woke, permanently, she found that Damon lay beside her, pouring over old books layered with dust.

"What are you doing?" Caroline yawned, turning to face him in bed.

"I'm forming a diabolical plan," he answered. His attention never strayed from the fading words in the text before him.

She nodded. A question formed in her throat, but something in his face warned her against speaking anymore. Instead, she hugged Damon's comforter closer around her body and settled back into sleep.

* * *

She got a D on her biology test. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that in her biology notebook, written in what could only be her own hand, were scattered notes from the previous week.

The week she couldn't remember.

* * *

She called Elena. She hung up when she heard the answering machine. God. She looked in the mirror and took in her face, entirely too young looking and naive. She wasn't naive, she knew, but her eyes always looked so childish, so blind.

Was she blind here? What wasn't he seeing? She'd lost a week. Her memories were scattered, disjointed. Could she have been concussed? What made people forget things?

Pushing her fears away for the moment, Caroline stood determinedly and shed her clothes, pulling on the familiar red skirt and top and tying her hair back in a high ponytail.

The bonfire was tonight.

_I'll probably get burned_, she thought to herself, and she closed the door behind her.

* * *

Mystic Falls High was famous for its events. Hell, the whole town was. Caroline shivered, holding her thin jacket more tightly around her. She caught sight of Stefan and Elena swooning over each other beneath the bleachers. Rolling her eyes, Caroline turned to come face to face with Tyler Lockwood.

"Hey," he said. He grinned at her, his charming smile that had convinced her that sleeping with him was a good idea a few years before. "Where's your Salvatore?"

"Who knows." She tilted her head to the side, her eyes raking up and down his body. "Where's Vicki?"

He shrugged. His skin was flickering in the shadow of the flames from the bonfire. He looked clean and so much like a boy and unlike Damon. She curved against him and smiled. Her eyes grew dark.

"Wanna get out of here?" Her fingers danced over the zipper of his jeans.

Tyler wrapped an arm over her shoulder and for a second she was fifteen and completely enamored with him. Elena's parents weren't dead and Stefan never came to town and Damon never followed.

She was just a virgin who had never seen a boy naked and had never swallowed more than a gulp of champagne. She had never witnessed what grief could do to fracture all their lives.

"Hell yes," he said, and they walked to his car and back in time.

* * *

Being with Tyler was different than being with Damon. There was no doubt that Damon was the more gifted lover. He'd certainly had more practice, Caroline thought bitterly.

But as Tyler moved within her, his body a welcome distraction below hers, she realized that she'd missed this. He didn't want anything from her but her consent. He was a seventeen year old boy and he liked her breasts and her legs and her hips. He sweated and panted and ground against her and it was all so clumsily young and passionate she felt tears rise to her eyes.

Her heart raced and the rhythm broke. He cried her name and she thought about how Damon never did. There was something controlled in Damon and he never whispered or moaned or goddamn yelled a single syllable of her name.

They fell together and she saw stars and then it was over. She knew she should be reaching for her underwear and blowing him a kiss as she left. She knew it. But her chest was tight and she felt so fragile and he wasn't moving either.

"Stay," he said. His voice was gravelly.

She nodded. "Sure," she whispered, when what she really wanted to say was thank you.

* * *

**As always, review. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries.**

**Author's Note: Sorry, sorry, sorry. Also - what about that finale?**

**Chapter 4**

She didn't know. She swore. It wasn't about his precious Katherine. It wasn't about revenge. It was about Mama. About a need that twisted within her and raged, a storm of grief more powerful than any loss she had known before.

She looked at Damon. She remembered when he was human. She remembered when he had stared at Katherine with such absolute devotion she had had to turn away. Her wrists were tied behind her back. A ribbon was forced over her mouth. The vervain pulsed through her and God himself tore into her bloodstream with his brilliant anger.

_Mama_, she cried. She wondered if Damon looked at her and remembered her as Annabel, the fifteen year old who became an orphan. The child with the wide eyes. Her lips moved; no sound came.

_Mama, I'm sorry. _

And his hand was in her chest. She watched his face as he pulled her heart out. She saw the darkness in his brow, his jaw. Those eyes, gleaming silver in the moonlight.

She saw the boy she had known – the boy she had pitied – drown in an ocean of evils. She wept for him. And she wept for herself.

_I'm so sorry._

* * *

Damon watched Anna fall to the floor, her mouth open in a now infinite scream. Tears hung on her lashes; some spilt and stained his hands.

He tilted his head and stared at her, a silent predator, calm in observing his prey. He rose to his feet and brushed her blood off on his jeans. Her heart lay, unbeating, several feet away. He smirked.

He was barely aware of Elena's screams. Of her desperation. He felt the rush of it all – his kill, his success, his goal so close he could _taste _it – and when she asked him (when she begged him) to take her home he ignored her. He let her leave. She had served her purpose.

For a few moments he didn't move, didn't breathe. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the matches. He struck the match and watched flame burst to life in the darkness. It glowed brightly and then was blown out by the wind. Damon emptied the canister of gasoline over her. It wet her hair.

Before he lit his second match, he knelt beside her body and closed her eyes with his fingertips. Then he lit that second match and let it fall, a splinter of hell to scrape clean all evidence. She ignited. Her hair burnt to ash; her skin withered and seemed to fly from her bones. He shook his head and left.

The fire followed him past the door and onto the pavement.

A crow wailed overhead.

* * *

She couldn't forget. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Anna's face. And every time she watched a single figure emerge from the shadows, saw the flash of white teeth and the way the girl was just staring at her like she couldn't even believe it.

Anna had never been a threat to Jeremy.

She was like Elena. She had no mother. She had no father. Tragedy had stolen from her. She was only trying to steal back.

"You're way more useful than Stefan," Damon had said. His hands had been wet with blood. He'd laughed.

It was the laugh, really, that haunted her.

She arrived at the boardinghouse at one in the morning, shaken and cold to her core. Her voice was choked with tears as she gathered Stefan's hands in hers and begged him to save Caroline.

"Stefan, please." She sank to her knees before him. "You have no idea. What I saw tonight..."

She shook her head as Anna's face rose to her mind.

Stefan froze. "You went with him," he said quietly. He sat down beside her in the warm heat emanating from the fireplace. He looked at her, all serious brow and perfect eyes. "Why?" he asked her.

Her mouth opened. "What are you talking about? We decided to help Damon. You _told_ me – "

"I told you to stay out of it. _Goddamn it,_ _Elena_. This is not your business! It's not your _fight_!"

But something else was growing. Some other, darker realization. "You knew," she whispered. "You knew he was going to kill that girl."

"She's not a girl, Elena. She's a vampire. And she was a threat." His back was to her then. He glared into the fire while she stared at the carpet.

"She wasn't a threat." Waves of anger washed through her. She closed her eyes and saw Damon, smiling over a corpse. The corpse quickly became blonde – a flash of a bloodied cheerleader's uniform crumpled on the floor. "That was a lie Damon told you – and me. He wanted her out of the way!"

Her outburst was met with no response.

Elena rose to her feet, hugging her jacket close to her chest. She swallowed hard. "But you knew that too. Didn't you. You knew he wanted to destroy her and you knew that all she wanted was her mother." More tears and Jesus she was only seventeen. "I can't believe you would do something like this."

"Elena - wait. Listen to me. Damon gets what he wants and he leaves. That's the only way to make everything right in Mystic Falls. Don't you see that?"

"Maybe you're no better than he is," she said, reaching for the door. "Do _you_ see _that_?"

It was in those early minutes of dawn that Anna had collapsed and Elena had witnessed something she couldn't name. Because _horrible thing _hadn't fit and neither had _murder in cold blood _– it all seemed to go beyond that. She had stared in silent fear as Damon forced his hand into Anna's chest and ripped out her heart. And Anna had let out this little gasp of a young girl shocked by all the evils in the world.

"What did you _do_?" she had cried. She ran to Anna's side, pressing her hands to a gaping, swallowing wound. Blood drowned her skin, slick against her fingers and black beneath the quiet sunlight.

He had grinned up at the sky. "A great thing," he whispered.

She shook her head, hands fisting in her hair. "I have to go. I have to go. Damon, please." Her voice wavered and she hated herself for it. "Take me _home_."

He didn't seem to hear her.

So she'd run; her car was parked just outside.

Damon hadn't followed her.

* * *

Caroline couldn't quite say why she did it. But when she got home from Tyler's and sneaked into her bedroom, she sat on her bed with her jewelry box and emptied it into her lap.

It only took her a minute to find the (completely tacky) necklace Elena had pressed into her palm shortly after Damon came to town. It was silver, which of course was part of the reason she never wore it. Silver was so last season. It also smelled like herbal tea and it wasn't exactly subtle about it either.

And yet.

She clasped it around her neck gingerly, feeling as though it might crumble to dust beneath the weight of her fingers. Despite the comfort that the necklace brought her, there was a pain in her chest as she got ready for bed.

She almost hoped that Damon would come to her. Her mind hurt.

She wondered if he could take that pain away, along with the memories he seemed to steal. She wondered if – if she begged – he would take _her _away. Steal _her_. She had always wanted to see Rome. And without him, she just had this feeling that she would never make it out of this goddamned town. Whenever she thought about it, a sickening sense of being utterly and completely trapped overwhelmed her, and she had to breathe deeply and just try to forget how powerless she really was.

Darkness was already fading outside her window. It had been late when she'd left Tyler in bed. He had been asleep, arm flung out across the space where she had lain. A part of her liked the idea of him searching for her in his dreams.

Caroline hugged her pillow to her chest and closed her eyes. Before she fell asleep, she could have sworn she heard a crow. The fluttering against the glass was so real she ran to the window and peered out into night. But when she looked into the sky, she saw nothing but the moon, large and lonely in the dark.

* * *

_One and two and three and four and – _

"Maggie, for God's sake keep up!" Caroline managed to hold back her eye roll, but only barely. She sighed, turning to face her girls. "The next game is in two days, folks. And we _suck_."

She knew she was being harsh but Jesus, was it so hard? When it had been her and Elena and Bonnie and the other girls were just in the background…well, it was safe to say the team had been slightly more impressive.

But Elena had quit and Bonnie had too, no doubt to tend to Elena and work on her fortune-telling.

Caroline pressed play on the CD player and began to count again.

_One and two and three and…_

She launched herself into the air, curving and landing back on her feet. A familiar warmth crept beneath her skin as she moved. Even before she was captain, she had never felt anything close to cheering. She knew it sounded stupid and unforgivingly blonde, but she loved it. And now she loved leading the team, feeling their eyes on her and knowing that – for once – she was going to be followed.

* * *

Damon found his brother staring into the fireplace, pouting. He shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it at Stefan.

"No time for self-pity; you've got laundry to do."

Stefan didn't turn around. "You crossed a line, Damon."

He headed for the stairs and laughed. "No, I didn't."

"Bullshit." Stefan stopped him, buzzing like a pissed off fly and blocking Damon's entrance to the staircase. "I mean it, Damon. Stay away from Elena."

Damon stared at him, his eyes narrowing. "You know, despite how I may have acted then, I'm really missing the Stefan of the 1890s. He was fun."

A growl burst from Stefan's throat. Before Damon could blink, his brother had him pinned against the wall. "I'm not like that anymore," Stefan spat. He swallowed hard.

"Get your hands off me." Damon waited until Stefan slowly released him to speak more. "And no worries – I'm totally down with being the homicidal sibling for now." He walked up the steps and toward his bedroom.

For a moment Damon thought he would get the last word. But of course Stefan couldn't leave it at that.

"I bet you're pretty pleased with yourself," he said from the foot of the stairs. Damon paused. "Anna's dead – there really isn't anyone else in your way, is there?"

"Only you, brother." Damon grinned, even though he knew Stefan couldn't see him. He let that settle in the air between them and then stepped into the bathroom. He really fucking needed a shower. Before he turned on the spray he called down to the living room.

"Best get cracking on that laundry, Stef. Bloodstains set like crazy."

* * *

"How could he think I wouldn't retaliate?" Damon asked her. He tilted his head to the side, running his fingertips over the soft skin of her shoulder.

She breathed against him, her hair fanned out over the pillow like rays of sunlight. "Maybe," she said, nuzzling her cheek to his jaw line, "Stefan doesn't know you like I do."

"Don't be ridiculous." Damon stopped touching her. He lifted her chin toward him till her eyes met his. "No one knows me better, sweetheart." And then he spoke to himself again: "So why is he underestimating me?"

She wondered if he truly forgot she was even there. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.

She had started dreaming again. Of waterfalls of blood and her own screams. But now Damon's arms were strong around her.

What was there to fear when he lay beside her, when his rage, his unpredictability seemed to cast a net of safety over them both?

"I need this," he murmured. His fingers moved to her hair, gently curving around one curled tendril. "Beautiful." He brought her hand to his mouth. His kisses felt so cold. Like frost bitten flowers in winter and an earth shattering free fall. There was no way out. "So beautiful."

His hands moved lower, just brushing over the band of her pajama bottoms. He glanced at her.

Her eyes were clenched shut. "I'm tired," she said. Her voice surprised her. It sounded firm. _Please don't look inside me. Please don't bring me to your night. _"Can we not do this? Please."

"Come on, Care." His tongue was sharp with mockery.

She shook her head. "No. Not now, Damon. I'm serious."

She barely felt the weight of his first blow. He threw her backwards, against her closet door. Her head pounded.

"Look at me," he demanded.

His words tugged at something painful within her. "No. Please just go."

He was before her as the words fell from her lips. He glared down at her. His body was so white beneath the light from the window. Like he was covered in snow.

Or ash.

Like maybe he didn't exist at all.

Caroline studied him, his eyes frowning at her in the darkness, pale irises flashing. He growled at her. He was such a beautiful monster, she thought. She hated herself for thinking the words.

"What is _that_?" he snarled. His fangs were fully bared, curling over his lower lip as he spoke.

Her fingers twisted around her necklace, grasping the locket tightly in her palm. "Nothing, I swear." He slammed the wall beside her head with his fist. "Just jewelry," she cried. "Just a necklace."

He backed away from her. His teeth were back to normal; he grinned, at once triumphant for no reason she could find. "I want you to do something else for me. You did such a lovely job the first time."

She was breathing hard. She stared up at him, fear still flowing through her veins. Her necklace felt hot around her throat. Her voice caught.

"Just a favor," he said. He spoke with his hands, words of gesture. "Not indentured servitude." His mouth twitched. "I promise."

A tear landed on her shorts. She watched a spot of grey darken to black. "Yeah," she whispered. "Okay."

He laughed as he turned away from her, heading for the door. "Excellent." His eyes caught hers from the doorway. "Shouldn't be long," he murmured. And he vanished.

Caroline swallowed. For a moment - only a moment, she swore - her face crumpled. She brought her hand to her eyes. Her gaze shot to the door.

"Wait!" she gasped, stumbling into the hallway. "You didn't -"

The hall was empty. The window in her room was open.

"You never told me what you wanted," she shouted into the night air. Her voice shook. "You - you didn't - how am I supposed to _know_?"

She curled her knees into her chest, leaning her head against the wall beneath the window. "How am I supposed to know?" she asked again.

No answer came. She fell asleep waiting. Waiting for him to what - rescue her?

When she woke up the necklace was gone.

Bruises ringed her throat like a chain. Beneath her jaw teeth marks gathered, dark and hideous, a map of lost memories. Blood wept from the corner of her mouth.

"Tomorrow night," the note read - tacked to her wall and signed in the usual red ink. "The graveyard."


End file.
